Midnight Fists
by Randy Mosselman
Summary: A story of a spacemarine chapter searching for their brothers, an Inquisitor with a hidden agenda and an artifact that dates back to the Heresy.


This is the beginning of a story of which there is no ending yet. I have manged some chapters though, but I was curious of what people might think out there and maybe contribute their ideas and criticism. I am Dutch, so there mnight be some crude translations here and there and probably some mistakes too.

I am looking for someone to bounce my stuff off of and see which way to head for with the story. I am used to writing papers and to keep in 'narrative mode' is not that easy for me, so if you have any tips or maybe some better ideas of how I shold be writing this, please let me know.

Thanx for your reactions in advance,

Randy.

**Planetfall**

Thonaton Primus. A small planet, perhaps the size of Terra's original moon. The only viable planet in a backwater system at the fringes of both Ultima and Tempestus Segmentum. Bathing in the warmth of three suns but at a distance that temperatures did not rise above an average 80 degrees Celsius Thonaton Primus's surface was almost totally covered in sand. Small pockets of vegetation fed by underground springs were sporadic like little islands in a yellow ocean. At intervals sandstorms as large as small continents reshaped the landscape, making it very hard to navigate on the surface without using the triangulation of Candela Prime, Secundus and Tertia.

Streaking towards its atmosphere like a predator in the night sky was a lone gunship. Built for war and armed to the teeth its black paint made it almost invisible against the blackness of the space it traversed. Its wings were adorned with large calibre auto canons which could do massive damage to either airborne foes or enemies on the ground. On the side of the craft an icon of a white fist surrounded by a circle of white licking flames was clearly visible against its black flanks as was the golden eagle proudly adorning the prow of the gunship.

Inside the troophold of the gunship giant men clad in black armour carrying an identical golden eagle on their chest and adorned with the same white fist surrounded by a white corona on their shoulder pauldrons, were each fixed in their own rituals.

The largest of the group of giants was standing at the front end of the compartment addressing what appeared to be his men. His name was Phaerynn and he wore the rank of veteran-sergeant, commander of Alpha squad.

'Brothers, make ready ! The _Illuminatum_ has been informed and is patrolling the region. We will be entering the atmosphere of Thonaton Primus in under 30 minutes!' the enormous spacemarine growled to his squad.

In the troophold of the gunship the message was acknowledged by everyone aboard, but it gave the other occupants no reason to differ from the preparations they were already making themselves.

The always good humoured Styxx was murmuring litanies of protection placating his holy armour to protect him from lethal danger. It had saved him on numerous occasions, the streaks of missing paint still visible in places where rounds hard ricocheted off the armour deadly wounds had been prevented. Styxx hoped it would keep on saving him a little while longer.

Frost, silent as always, polishing the lenses of his scope and performing the rites of accuracy. Brother Frost always carried the long sniper rifle he still sported from his training days as a scout under the tutelage of Captain Rhyne of the Tenth, Master of Training, into battle. It was mag-locked to his back and had proven its usefulness and lethalness on many occasions. Nevertheless the boltgun was his preferred weapon of death dealing and it lay polished and gleaming next to the scopeless sniper rifle.

Brother Penta was checking and rechecking his holy bolter, shifting it sideways, checking the sear, turning the muzzle up, checking the chamber, cocking the hammer and letting it slam down on air. It had been given a thorough examination by techmarine Vandus three days ago after it's jamming on their last mission. The spirit housing his weapon had been appeased and now it was working again without any ill-timed malfunctions, but Penta kept on rechecking his bolter just to ease his own doubts.

Vandus himself was piloting _Shadowstriker_ and was concentrating to keep the thunderhawk level while still evading debris or he might have scowled seeing Penta checking the loading mechanism of his bolter over and over again.

Opposite to Penta, second in command to veteran-sergeant Phaerynn, brother Hefaestos was staring at the pitch black floor plating at his feet. He was wondering if the squad was ready for this mission. He had discussed the mission with veteran- sergeant Phaerynn and they had gone over the few details they had been entrusted with. The obscurity of the mission and the lack of information could potentially turn this mission into a disaster, and Hefaestos had a bad feeling it would. His visage turned grim, but he was determined to see it through.

They were all warriors, they had all killed in the name of the Emperor, but none were as gifted as Telemakos. His swordsmanship had no equal in the whole of the Chapter. Even Chaptermaster Rubicon had once tested himself against his blade, but even he could not best the growing legend in his ranks that wore the name Telemakos.

Telemakos had not been the victor of the bout either though. During their exchange of lightning fast thrusts, flashing ripostes and clever faints Rubicon had made minor mistakes, but nevertheless mistakes on which an expert the likes of Telemakos should have easily capitalized on. Telemakos however had not. Suspecting his sparring partner had been consciously or subconsciously holding back, most likely not wanting to dishonour his lord. Rubicon ended the training exercise after almost an hour with some made up excuse he was needed elsewhere. The bout would be continued in the nearby future. Almost two whole companies were speculating who would eventually win the bout, most favoured Rubicon, those that still preferred the sword over the bolter to end the enemy, knew better. Two weeks after the bout Rubicon had bestowed on Telemakos two gifts. They were to be his if he acceded to one condition. The Chaptermaster had come to his quarters and they had talked about the bout and the unconventional style with which Telemakos wielded his blade. He had requested that Telemakos would teach this new technique to the new initiates and henceforth would wield the title Master of the Sword. That was the Chaptermaster's first gift. To go with the new title, lord Rubicon had reverently presented him his new sword. It was a powersword designed by the Chaptermaster himself and the master artificers of the Salamanders had crafted it at his request. Never before had he laid eyes on such a masterfully created blade. 'A champion of our chapter must wield a champion's blade,' Rubicon had said and had handed him the blade. 'Our well respected brothers of Nocturne call it _Fireheart_, as it unleashes the fire of rage when wielded in battle. Use it well Master of the Sword.' That was the Chaptermaster's second gift.

Honoured Telemakos had accepted the blade and had let his fingers trail the ornamental silver runes and drawings across the dark blue scabbard and hilt. He had pulled _Fireheart_ from the scabbard and activated the power cell. The blade came alive, crackling with energy and it gave off a blue incandescent light. Letting it cut the air, Telemakos had tested its balance and cutting through a piece of rock like a knife through water, its deadliness. When he had gently put the blade down next to his neatly secured and powered down armour, Telemakos had gone down on one knee, one hand touching the floor, one arm over his knee supporting his chest, head bowed down in deference. 'My lord, I am deeply honoured by these gifts and I will teach our brothers the new techniques if they are willing to accept me as their teacher, but you said you had one condition ? Name it, my lord, and already know I will gladly give my consent.' A smile had crossed the lips of his lord and master as he told Telemakos to get up. He had looked Telemakos straight in the eye, the smile still on his lips. 'If ever we end up continuing our bout, Master of the Sword, be sure not to hold back... so I won't have to either.'

Tightly fixed in the thunderhawk's grav-harness Telemakos chuckled at the jest lord Rubicon had made and he took Fireheart out of its scabbard to inspect the blade once more. 'Perfect. A champion's sword indeed,' Telemakos said out loud and sheathed the blade back into its scabbard.

'Aye, it is,' his sergeant said as he took the place beside Telemakos and fastened the plasteel braces of the grav-harness. 'And it was well earned. It truly was a spectacle to behold. I thought I would never live to see the day our Chaptermaster humbled in battle, but there it was. Stalemate, years of experience and skilful handling checked by unconventional, but beautiful and impulsive swordplay. If only Dorn could have seen this, I wonder if he would be awed or enraged.'

'I wonder as well,' Telemakos replied his mind for a moment playing with the idea their progenitor watching his duelling children. 'Since the dawn of our chapter we have adopted the teachings of the Five Spheres, the battle rites codified by the Great Teacher of the Imperial Fists, Master Rhetoricus. But unlike most of our brethren from other chapters we do not strictly adhere to the teachings of the Five Spheres... nor the Codex Astartes. We have adopted it yes, but we have adapted it as well. We have taken the codex as our foundation and built on. I wonder if Dorn would approve, I know Guilleman would never stand for it. Come to think of it, several spacemarine chapters have been persecuted for even less.'

Veteran-sergeant Phaerynn nodded before donning his helm. He activated is voxlink to Telemakos by blink clicking his biometric rune on his visor. Telemakos fixed his helm as well. 'I too have often wondered about these things myself,' Phaerynn sighed as if he carried the weight of the whole Imperium on his shoulders. 'If we are to stay true to the teachings of our Primarch and our ancestors, I believe we should take these teachings figuratively and not literally. Rogal Dorn, beloved son of the Emperor and Father to our chapter, was a master of defensive strategies. He was the hard unyielding rock that protected the Imperium and has kept it alive during the Treachery of Horus. He was the Fist that broke the back of the forces trying to destroy all the Emperor had created. It is this unyielding Fist, this defence that is the basis of our teachings. It is this Fist you must carry proudly on your shoulder, like all brothers that are with you now, all brothers that have come before you and all brothers that eventually will avenge you when you fall. Dorn once said, _to defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy_. Our chapter has taken this to heart. We study our enemy, study their strategies and weapons and adapt our own way of war making to better destroy them. Lord Rubicon has seen the added value of your sword handling to better defeat our enemies. Think of it this way. Every chapter knows the Codex by heart, he lives it, he breathes it. It is the basis of our war making for over thousands of years. Do you not think our enemies would know of our strategies, have comprehended our way of making war by now ? Can you, Telemakos, not precisely predict the mind-set of an Ultramarine ? To him the Codex Astartes is instinct, second nature, to me it is predictable, to me it signifies an easy kill. The Emperor forgive me for saying this, for to some it might be blasphemous, but the Codex is what's keeping the Astartes back from reaching their full potential as the best warriors the Imperium has to offer. Eventually even the Astartes will fall to the enemy who favour progress, adaptation and evolution. That is why we, _Midnight Fists_, will be ready to meet this threat head on. The enemy will find the Fist of Dorn always prepared, always defiant and always unyielding. So do not ponder this question too long, brother, for I am honoured to follow your teachings of the sword and hopefully one day I will best you myself.'

Brother sergeant Phaerynn reassuringly thumped Telemakos chest plate and hoped their talk would be the end of any doubts Telemakos might have. The squad would need his skills for the mission ahead.

The temperature in _Shadowstriker_ seemed to rise slightly and turbulence which could not be filtered out by the gyros and thrusters was starting to gently rock the thunderhawk, which could only mean it was entering the outer atmosphere of the planet.

Phaerynn switched voxconnection and hailed Vandus for a status update. The vox crackled. 'Another 20.44 minutes until touchdown, brother sergeant,' came the reply. In roughly twenty minutes they would land on Thonaton Primus's soil.

'Acknowledged,' replied the veteran-sergeant as he let his gaze wonder over his squad. The visor's retinal display showed all sorts of tactical and biometric readouts and targeting icons flashed red as they identified the lethal capacity of the weapons the spacemarines carried. Satisfied the targeting system in his helm was fully operational, he blink clicked the standby rune. All data feed stopped and Gamma's face came into focus.

'How fares your arm ?' Phaerynn asked Gamma looking at his replaced bionic left arm.

Brother Gamma swung his left arm upwards, almost hitting Decius, strapped in the harness next to him. 'It is well within acceptable parameters, sergeant,' he said without effort. He moved his arm horizontally, this time deliberately hitting Decius the process.

'There are some minor glitches though, as you can see commander. I need to request another inspection by Vandus once we get back. What do you think, young Decius,' he teased the younger spacemarine he had just hit with his prosthetic arm. Gamma had been injured during their last mission on Ryback , an inhospitable planet in the Loki sector. Orcs had been raiding the few settlements on the planet. It was a simple mission. Assess the orc threat and eliminate it. The threat had been a minor one and mission success was achieved in less than 2 days, however, a tragic incident had occurred as well.

While engaging the last remaining cornered orcs, one huge, stinking and shouting brute had started on what seemed to be a suicide run. Penta could have easily taken the charging orc down, were it not for the malfunction of his bolter. Penta, removing the ammunition clip and trying to dislodge the jamming shell, immediately called for backup. The orc was still running, shouting and shooting instead of being cut down by bolterfire. Styxx had stepped in and shot the brawling orc in its thick head, but still it managed to keep it's finger on the trigger, unleashing round after round towards Gamma's position. Usually the aim of an orc is as bad as it is ugly, but even bad shots can get lucky sometimes. One of the stray rounds hit a tank coupling providing promethium to the heavy flamer Gamma was carrying. When it hit, the promethium ignited and the tanks on his back exploded engulfing Gamma in a raging inferno of red and yellow flames. He had tried desperately to remove the auto clamps of the tanks, but the tanks were already fused with his armour. In a few seconds Gamma would have been burned alive and his name inscribed in one of the Stone Tablets in the Crypt of the Fallen, if not for his armour and Decius' actions. The young spacemarine had ripped off the remains of the promethium tanks melting and fusing with Gamma's back armourplating and pulled pieces of shredded and burning armour out of his brother's body, taking cooked and oozing pieces of Gamma with it. He had then used the pressure of an exploding flash grenade, to take out the remaining flames. Gamma, stunned and already in a sus-an membrane induced coma, had survived, but his left arm had been burned to the bone and was beyond his body's capacity to heal. The force of the exploding promethium tanks had melted the left side of his helmet and the searing heat had popped his left eye. It too could not be salvaged. The apothecaries and techmarines of the chapter had done their utmost to replace his left arm and eye with artificial and mechanical prosthetics.

Instead of struggling emotionally and physically with his new eye and arm, as was often the case, Gamma had returned to the squad with renewed vigour, thankful for still being able to serve the Emperor. He had thanked Decius for saving his life and had shown his undying gratefulness by testing the nerves of his younger brother-in-arms at every opportunity he got.

Decius let him. He could take the abuse. Decius was the youngest and the latest addition to Squad Alpha of the glorious 2nd Company. He had replaced fallen battle brother Secton, a highly valued and respected brother and his death had hit squad Alpha hard. Decius struggled to earn the same respect as Secton had, but he was up to the task and eager to prove his worth to veteran-sergeant Phaerynn. Saving Gamma's life had been a big step in the right direction and Phaerynn had lauded him for that.

The sergeant watched as the youngster ritualistically touched the white and black fisted insignia on his left pauldron. 'Remind me next time you are bathing in promethium to hand you a Calderian sponge,' Decius offered Gamma with a playful smile before covering it with his helmet. Gamma started to laugh with a boom which continued over the vox after the seals on his own helmet clicked shut.

Standing left to Decius, brother-librarian Santos adjusted the thunderhawk's restraints to better lock the connections of his psychic hood into the three sockets fixed to his skull. With a click and hiss the seals locked and with a low hum the circuitry of the hood came to life. Santos closed his eyes and the humming increased. He was transferring more power to the psychic dampener imbedded in the hood, giving him more control over his psychic Gift.

The librarian, one of Ionia's most revered Mentors had not been at ease ever since they had translated into system. Normally coming out of the empyrean lifted some of the intense psychic weight beings marked with the Gift carried, but not this time. Bearers of the Gift could never let up, never let their guard down, never be lured into temptation or their souls would forever be forfeit to the beings that housed inside the warp. The pressure and temptations were at their most extreme inside the domain in which these tempting daemons existed, the warp itself. However, to Santos it felt as if he was still traversing the warp. Someone or something warp tainted was still near. Very near and very powerful.

The silence and edginess of his librarian had not escaped veteran sergeant Phaerynn and when the thunderhawk had descended enough for the turbulence to subside and the squad had been given permission by Vandus to release the grav-harnesses again, he detached the harness from his armour and crossed the troophold to address Santos. 'You appear to be troubled honoured Mentor, do you wish to express your concerns to the others?' Phaerynn reverently asked the librarian using the title the chapter had held on to for generations.

The librarian gazed deep into Phaerynn's eyes and let his hand rest on his armoured shoulder. 'I have a feeling of dread, sergeant,' Santos imprinted into his sergeant's mind. The voice in Phaerynn's head sounded like his own voice, but he knew it wasn't. Santos looked around Phaerynn's shoulder towards the rest of the squad, as if he was afraid the others could overhear their conversation. 'Something is amiss on Thonaton, something or someone is causing a disturbance in the warp and I have a feeling some of its energies are spilling out somewhere on the planet below. How this is even possible I do not know, but I do not need to use the Gift to guess it has something to do with our mission here, does it not brother-sergeant?

'You might be correct in your assumptions, honoured Mentor,' Phaerynn thought as he stepped away from the librarian, turning towards the rest of his squad, knowing Santos could still read his mind. 'You could of course have taken the information of the mission from my mind or perhaps brother Hefaestos, but I trust your integrity as I trust in the loyalty of every one of these sons of Dorn.'

Phaerynn blink clicked the squad rune on his visor opening a vox connection to the rest of the squad. The rune turned green and all heads turned, Alpha Squad were paying attention to their commander.

'Brothers', Phaerynn started his briefing, 'I want you all to listen and listen very carefully. Squad Alpha has been selected for this mission by chaptermaster Rubicon himself and captain Majeston of the glorious 2nd company. We have been selected, because in their wisdom they know only Alpha and no one else can bring this mission to a successful end. It is no boast, we áre our chapter's finest warriors.'

A roar of agreement resounded throughout the thunderhawk. Everyone knew it was a bold statement. Squad Alpha and squad Primus of the 1st company had always been at odds and had a healthy competition going on between them. Both squads were always petitioning for the most dangerous missions and trying to outdo the other squad in finesse and kill ratio.

Brother-librarian Santos raised his hand and the clamour died down. With a light nod he motioned Phaerynn to resume the briefing. 'We are all agreed Alpha has stood its ground against any xenos foe and never before have we met a threat we could not overcome and vanquish together. This time should not be any different.

However, this time the data we have on the enemy, if there even is an enemy, is minimal to say the least. This time we will, as Hefaestos has put it to me, be going in blind.'

Phaerynn pressed the activation rune on the control panel before him and a holo emitter projected a miniaturised version of Thonaton Primus in front of him. Now these are the facts as they have been presented to me by captain Majeston.'

The transparent blue holo image of Thonaton Primus rotated and a singular red dot blinked in and out of view, but did not move position on the globe.

'Twenty seven terran days ago Inquisitor Dagon Finster and his retinue, assisted by two squads of Crimson Fists, our progenitor chapter, have ventured to Thonaton Primus to secure an ancient artefact of unknown origin. They have landed at the ruins of Hecate and have trekked to this position,' Phaerynn indicated the spot where the red dot was blinking ominously. 'It's the last position a transmission has been sent from. That was six terran days ago. However, according to the orbital sensor scryings of the _Illuminatum_ , there should be nothing there, just hundreds of square kilometres of sand and rock. Where they were going or where they are now only the Emperor knows. Why Finster would need two squads of Astartes to accompany him planetside is not known to me. If the artefact was secured prior to their disappearance, I do not know either. The only ones to know of the whereabouts of the ancient artefact are known only to the Inquisitor himself and his trusted adjutant Hasdrubal Pierce.'

Words of disbelief were uttered, glances of unease were exchanged. Again Santos raised his hands and beckoned his brothers for silence. 'What I do know,' Phaerynn continued, summarising the facts, 'is that since six terran days all contact with the Inquisitor and our bloodbrothers of the Crimson Fists has been lost. I think it is safe to assume that their disappearance in this desert and the discovery of the artefact are somehow linked. Chaptermaster Pedro Kantor of the Crimson Fists has dispatched the strike cruiser _Insatiable_ _Vengeance_ carrying four squads to Thonaton Primus to retrieve their brothers or to avenge them should they have fallen. However, the navigator has estimated that unless the warpstorms in this region let up the cruiser will arrive as soon as seven days. The chaptermaster was not willing to just idly wait for seven days and has asked lord Rubicon for aid. Since our homeworld and our base of operations is closer to Thonaton Primus, captain Majeston has petitioned lord Rubicon to send in Alpha squad. Lord Rubicon, as you now know, has honoured the requests of the chaptermaster of the Crimson Fists as well as captain Majeston. Our mission parameters as stated are too find and retrieve our brothers-in-arms and Inquisitor Finster at any cost. We are in no circumstance to retrieve the artefact ourselves. That is a concern of the Inquisition, which without any doubt will have taken steps on its own accord to recover Finster or the artefact.'

Phaerynn knew the blood of his brothers was up, as was his own. 'Brothers, I do not know what or who we are up against, but I want you to remember two squads of our progenitor-brothers have gone missing. Astartes do not get lost ! So once we deploy I want each and every one of you to be alert and ready for anything. I have given my oath of the moment to captain Majeston that Squad Alpha will return home with their brothers or not at all.'

Shadowstriker's thrusters came online and the thunderhawk whined as the engines tried to fight back inertia and gravity. The thunderhawk was flying now instead of falling and Vandus was preparing for landing. It banked right and was beginning its last phase of descent. The red flames licking the outside hull were replaced by white trails of steam running off its wings, forming white lines across a clear blue sky. The techmarine looked on his display and pulled on the throttles. Several runes were blinking, indicating the landing gear was being deployed.

From the cockpit he could see the ruins of He'kate, once a fortress, armed as well as it was beautiful, now an area scarred by rubble, pockmarked by bombing craters. White ash, created by pulverised marble and rockcrete covered large areas, like sterile blankets. It scattered and turned to dust clouds as the thunderhawk past, revealing more of the destruction it was covering. Pieces of rockcrete as large as the thunderhawk itself were scattered at ranges as far as two kilometres out, indicating the ferocity of the shelling and the megatons of explosive power that had been needed to destroy the fortress.

At the southern edge of the ruins the two dark blue Crimson Fists thunderhawks clashed with the more softer colours of the surrounding sand and ash. They appeared to be unscathed and waiting for the squads to return.

Phaerynn was watching over Vandus shoulder in the cockpit and directed Vandus to land Shadowstriker next to its blue counterparts. He would try and track their steps from the landing zone. Vandus nodded and gently eased the transport down.

Pistons in the landing gear hissed as overpressure was released and hydraulics creaked under the full weight of the thunderhawk as it touched down. The engines were powering down and the thrusters burned their last fuel and sputtered. Ashes blew in all directions engulfing the thunderhawk in a fine grey mist. With a clank the front hatch of the Shadowstriker opened and slowly eased down until it hit the sandy ground.


End file.
